Trust Me

Thoughts

♥♥♥Hey guys! So here's another chapter! I know the upload are slow, but it will get faster when Trust Me is actually complete on micro soft word, which should be soon, but for now it may be a little slow. And NOTE: There will be a point of view change. Usually I will started the chapter at the point of view change, but I didn't realize there would be one so soon when I updated last, so there was a paragraph left from Quinn's point before it switches to Levy's, just so  you aren't confused. Enjoy!♥♥♥

I looked at my mother, passed out on the old, stained couch, a bunch of needles on the table in front of her,  a loose belt still around her arm. It was not an usual sight, and I knew she would be out for a long time. I moved towards the door, hoping to avoid my father and go find Jake, with no such luck. The man that was my father stepped in my back, grinning down at me. My stomach turned. I knew that look all too well. I hated that look. I much preferred the angry face to the soft face. The soft face meant bad things. He knelt down in front of me, and I tried to inch backwards, but he grabbed my arms roughly, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

“Where you going, Quinnie? It’s just you and me for a bit.” He purred, and I tried to pull free, but he just pulled me closer, hurting my arms. “Come on, let’s go spend some quality time before your mother wakes up.” He said, giving me that smile. I struggled harder, and only succeeded in pissing him off. He let go of one of my arms with one hand and used it to smack me, hard, across the face. My face on fire, tears in my eyes, he dragged me into the only other room in our apartment,  a small back room. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for help.

My eyes snapped open, but I wasn’t in the back room. My father wasn’t there. He was dead. My mother wasn’t passed out on the couch, unable and unwilling to help me as my father ruined me. She was dead too. And Jake wasn’t there to comfort me and hold me close and cry with me. He was dead.

Everyone was dead.

I jumped out of bed and went to into “my” bathroom, turning on the light and looking at myself in the mirror.  My good eye was red rimmed, a large purple bag underneath it. My cheeks were pale, my gray eyes wide. It wasn’t an unusual look for me. My bruised eye was looking better. Most of the swelling had gone down, and now I had just a dark purple bruise. I splashed some cold water on my face, dried off, then left the bathroom. I knew I wouldn’t be going back to sleep.

Levy's P.O.V

I heard Quinn’s bedroom door open and close and looked at the clock. It was after two. Why was she awake? Well, I was still awake so it didn’t matter that much. However, I was curious. Was she trying to run away?

I waited a moment then opened my door and peered down the dark hallway. I caught sight of her long blond hair flowing down her back. She was still in the same clothes as earlier; a black tank top and dark blue cut off jean shorts. She had at least taken off the boots. She was strange. Touchy, sort of arrogant. She hated me, I could tell.

She flinched when people touched her. Even Josie.

I shut my door and went back to my bed, sitting on the edge and pulling my sketch book out from under a blanket. I didn’t draw anything, just sat there tapping my pencil on the plain sheet of paper.

She was strange. The black eye gave her a tough look, but the story behind it almost made me think she might be a little big in her britches, you know? I was also curious as to what she had been doing in prison in the first time. With her wide, storm gray eyes and slight frame, she didn’t exactly look like a trouble maker.

I could tell she was uncomfortable in the house, not because she didn’t like the people, but she just wasn’t used to it. Josie liked her though. She had a terrible attitude problem though, and it as annoying.